


appreciation

by sepsner



Category: South Park
Genre: Electrocution, Kidnapping, M/M, Manipulation, i can't think of any more warnings, mention of vomit, oh here's one, ohh spooky, professor chaos - Freeform, really not healthy at all, stutters, stutters week, tfbw au, toolshed - Freeform, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 18:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16602956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepsner/pseuds/sepsner
Summary: Chaos knows the true value of Toolshed. He'll win him over, eventually.





	appreciation

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of NaNo /and/ Stutters Week! I may edit this later.

One minute, Toolshed was fighting alongside Mysterion and The Human Kite, being flooded by minions. The next, he was alone, having woken up with a throbbing headache. He went to move his hand to touch his head, but when his arm jerked, he knew something was up. He glanced down at his arms - they had been bound to a chair. Toolshed rolled his head back and groaned.  
  
Toolshed didn’t want to be Toolshed anymore.  
  
His name was Stan Marsh. He worked as a handyman, building furniture to sell and travelling to people’s homes to install shelves and door frames. He had a loving mother, and a sister who he spoke to on holidays, and two dogs.  
  
Who was going to tell his mom he was missing? Who was going to tell his sister that she stank like egg farts? Who was going to feed his dogs?  
  
Stan heard a door slam behind him and he jumped. He wriggled against his wrist restraints and grunted, trying to move and see who had just come in. Stan didn’t have to wait long to find out who it was.  
  
“Oh, Toolshed, you’re awake!”  
  
Stan groaned. It was time to be Toolshed again. “Chaos,” he gritted through his teeth. “Where are my friends?”  
  
Chaos laughed, still not in Toolshed’s line of sight. Toolshed grunted again, balling his hands into fists. If only he had Kite’s lazer eyes… “Asking about your friends before you ask about yourself? I would say that was heroic, if it wasn’t also incredibly stupid.”  
  
“I have no time for your games,” Stan groaned. He had his dogs to get home to. How long had he been away?  
  
Suddenly, Chaos was upon him. He grabbed the back of Toolshed’s chair and leaned in close, making Toolshed jerk his head backwards. Chaos was incredibly close, his eyes boring into Toolshed. One was milky white, a result of a fight with Mysterion many years ago. The other… Toolshed expected it to be a piercing, electric blue, but instead, Stan would have described it as _soft_. Toolshed, though? Toolshed would have just said blue.  
  
“This isn’t a game,” Chaos smirked. Toolshed could feel his breath against his cheeks. “This is an offer.”  
  
“An… offer?”  
  
Chaos moved away, finally letting Toolshed sit properly. “You’re not like your other heroes, Toolshed. There’s something about you that, at its core, is… chaotic.”  
  
Toolshed frowned. He had no idea what Chaos _meant_ \--  
  
“You’re jealous of your friends.”  
  
“What?” Stan leaned back in the chair, taken aback. Where did he get _that_ idea from?  
  
“The Human Kite is a powerful alien,” Chaos explained as he paced. “Mysterion has death-defying powers from a God. The Coon is the hybrid of beast and man. But you, Toolshed…” Chaos turned to Stan, a glimpse of mischief in his eye. Something about his expression made Toolshed squirm in his chair, suddenly dreading what was to come.  
  
“You’re just Stan Marsh.”  
  
Chaos might as well had punched Toolshed in the gut. He was winded, suddenly, his fists opening and closing as he struggled against the chair. How did Chaos know that? As Toolshed gasped for air, he shook his head. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. What was he _meant_ to say to that?  
  
While Stan squirmed, Chaos smirked. He was proud of himself, in a sick way. _Stan_ was going to be sick. “Yep, I’ve got your number, Mister Marsh.”  
  
“What do you want?” Stan choked, suddenly picturing his dogs and his mother. Suddenly afraid.  
  
Chaos moved in close again, leaning over Stan, their faces almost touching. The light was blocked, leaving Stan no choice but to look only at the shadowed face of Chaos. “I want you to join me.”  
  
“No,” Stan spat, his wrists straining against the restraints.  
  
“Wrong answer.”  
  
Stan found himself throwing his head back and screaming in pain before realising what was even being done to him. Chaos’ thunder shot through him, his limbs uselessly jerking and convulsing with electricity. Chaos stopped, and Stan immediately lunged forwards to vomit.  
  
“So are you gonna learn your lesson?”  
  
Stan couldn’t hold back. He sobbed. “My dogs-”  
  
“Taken care of,” Chaos replied. “Two minions are at your house, right now. The dogs won’t be left unattended as long as you play along with me, Stan.”  
  
Still gasping for breath, Stan looked up at Chaos. The light shone behind him, almost illuminating his hair as a halo.  
  
“Where are your friends, Stan?” A smirk played on Chaos’ lips. “They’re not here to save you.”  
  
“They’ll come,” Stan wheezed.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
Stan bit his lip. He wasn’t part of the group, not really. He knew this. It was just something he never wanted to admit. Not until someone was showing it to him, right on a platter. Chaos was… this killed Stan to admit. Chaos was right. Stan dipped his head again and sniffed.  
  
Then, Chaos did something unexpected. Even more surprising than the wave of thunder that ripped through Stan. He knelt in front of him and reached out a bare hand to gently brush against Stan’s cheek. As if he was handling porcelain, Chaos lifted Stan’s head to look at him. He pulled away Stan’s eye gear and wiped his eyes, and Stan almost leant into the touch. Almost. How he could suddenly be so gentle with Stan, after almost killing him, was beyond Stan’s comprehension.  
  
He hated that he liked being touched like this.  
  
“Stan,” Chaos said softly, as if trying to calm down a child, “you should stay around people who appreciate you.”  
  
Stan tried to reply, but he let out a hiccup and a sigh.  
  
“I appreciate you,” Chaos continued. “You’re a valuable asset, and a kindhearted person.”  
  
Stan sobbed.  
  
“You’re wanted here, Stan. _I_ want you here.” Chaos’ thumb brushed against Stan’s cheek, and he finally leaned into it. His body shook, tired, and all he wanted was the comfort. Even if it was from Chaos.  
  
“I’m glad you’ve made the right choice,” Chaos cooed. He stood up again, moving Stan’s head to look up to him as he did. “Let’s get you a change of clothes, then, Toolshed.”  
  
The radiant Chaos smiled down at Stan, shaking and small, hunched in his chair. Well, he had no choice, did he? To keep himself safe… To _feel_ safe, to feel _wanted_. He pressed his face against Chaos’ hand again, sighing and unclenching his fists.  
  
Chaos smirked down at him. “Welcome home.”


End file.
